\"Bye, Michelle. ” “I have been through dozens of foster parents, John. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. 32 The curtains and tapestries had appeared over the windows before Marina had died, growing moldy from the dampness and the oils of lavender, clove, and clary sage soaking them. ’ She waved towards a handy table to one side which was piled high with so many volumes, it looked in imminent danger of crashing to the floor. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. ” He looked at her with white, set face. Wood.
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